


Rescue

by QuietlyImplode



Series: Rescue Me [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Rescue, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyImplode/pseuds/QuietlyImplode
Summary: “Natasha’s been kidnapped. She was taken off the roof of our hotel adjacent building. There was a struggle. I need your help. This is a secure line.” He says it robotically, breaking it down so there’s no room for misunderstandings.He can hear Tony typing. “Where are you?”
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Rescue Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984783
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Rescue

The mission in Morocco was indeed a shit show.

Landing in Rabat, Clint had that feeling that things were just going to go wrong; an overpowering pit of the stomach, dejavu butterfly- monster mash of anticipation; making him drag his feet at every transition. Natasha, however, had been in her element, large hat, beautifully dressed, tan the perfect shade and looking like a local as they headed for the Kasbah of the Udayas to meet with their contact.

Their driver had, of course, taken them the long way round but it had given them time to scout the area so neither minded the drive.

“You,” the driver had started, “here for a holiday?”

Natasha had smiled, making light conversation easily. It had allowed Clint to take in the scenery, and scout points where he could perch. He paid more attention when Natasha reached across and grabbed his hand squeezing lightly. Looking across, she signed low for him to check if anyone was following, whilst continuing to talk about London where she was supposedly from. He’s often in awe of her but it’s times like this where the phrase ‘competence porn’ feels apt. There’s no way he could multitask like her.

Clint hadn’t noticed anyone following, assuming their arrival had gone unnoticed, who were they in a city of just over half a million people?

Intel leading them here had been from Natasha’s contact in Casablanca, he assumes it’s clean; the Black Widow’s reputation for revenge of those who would dare cross her is obvious, perhaps now, outdated.

He signs back his observations, to which she nods and inquires to the driver how much longer til they arrive. It obvious that the driver doesn’t want to give up the fare, as he drives around the tourist attraction , before stopping to let them out. Clint tips him well enough to be forgotten instantly as Natasha heads to the front desk to pay the entry fee.

The meet goes as well as can be expected and the intel they gain is easily fed back to their superiors. They ditch the burner phone and shed their personas and walk to their hotel, holding hands like two lovers on a evening walk. Their hotel is basic and they hope to be gone by the morning. Natasha takes first watch and Clint makes himself sleep, trusting she’ll wake him when it’s his turn to watch their backs. They could stay in the hotel room, but both know the risks of being ambushed in a confined space, the odds they would both make it would be low; so the compromise of shift watch is fair. He had properly scouted the area whilst Natasha had gone for dinner- he’s confident in the spot he chose for the watch, high enough to not be noticed, close enough to the hotel to raise alarms.

Clint’s body clock wakes him exactly 5 hours after falling asleep- no Natasha. Which in itself isn’t odd as she may be on her way, but he feels it, Clint’s damn spidey-sense is fucking blaring. He heads for the scout point and he can feel the butterflies turn into stones as his stomach bottoms out again, feelings returning tenfold. It makes him want to throw up. Desperate now, he calls Natasha. There’s no answer, of course she didn’t take her phone and they’d got rid of the burner earlier. He hopes to god she left her earpiece in.. The one he left back at the hotel. Fuck.

The scout point shows signs of a struggle- scuff marks, blood, she had time to put up a fight then. He’s nervous. And worried.

Hurrying now, he calls Tony, sprinting back to the hotel. He can’t think of what else to do. If he goes through the proper channels, he’d be recalled, they’d go through the mission with a fine tooth comb- all of that takes time. Time he does not have; time Natasha does not have. He wants to capitalize on not being too far behind whoever’s kidnapped her.

Clint dials Tony again. And again when he doesn’t pick up. Clint rounds on the hotel, out of breath. Hands on his knees he swipes to get into the room.

Ringing Pepper now, he’s desperate. He calculates quickly in his head the time 1am here means 10pm in New York; laughing darkly as he thinks that the one time Tony’s gone to bed early or actually getting some sleep. Pepper answers on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Pepper? It’sNatashaineedTony.” He said catching his breath and blurting it out.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Pepper, it’s Clint. I need Tony,” he rephrases; slowing his speech and breaking his words.

Pepper sighs, “he’s in the workshop, can you hold?”

Nodding and then realizing she can’t see him, he responds affirmatively.

He’s packing a go-bag, Natasha would be appalled at the organization but he’s not thinking right.

Tony’s jovial hello is not what he needs right now.

Clint makes himself stop. Makes himself explain the necessity of Tony and Iron Man.

“Natasha’s been kidnapped. She was taken off the roof of our hotel adjacent building. There was a struggle. I need your help. This is a secure line.” He says it robotically, breaking it down so there’s no room for misunderstandings.

He can hear Tony typing. “Where are you?”

Clint gives the coordinates, looking them up on his phone.

“Rabat? You’re in Rabat? That’s a 12 hour flight commercial, maybe 6 by quinjet, maybe 2 by suit. I’ll re-task one with medical now,” Clint can hear Tony thinking; at least one of them is thinking straight. “I’m looking at satellite footage, when was she taken?”

Clint doesn’t know.

“We got back to the hotel, ate and then she left for the scout point. She was on first watch. I think she has her earpiece in. Can you track that?”

More furious typing.

“She’s about 21 miles from you, the earpiece is pinging from an importer warehouse. I can meet you there but it’s going to take me around two hours flying at full speed; even if we get her the jets going to be 4 hours behind me. Do you have a plan?”

Clint is reluctant to admit he doesn’t. He wants to get to the warehouse now. He doesn’t want to wait two hours, it’s going to take around an hour to get there regardless.

Tony is, surprisingly a voice of reason. He knows Tony loves Natasha - not like he does but they connect in a way he doesn’t get. Maybe joint trauma, who knows. He respects it, and right now he is thankful for it.

“I’m on my way. Head to the warehouse; I know you are anyway, and I’ll meet you there. The warehouse is guarded - I would advise not to engage tactically it’d be better to have a diversion and get her out when attention is elsewhere.” He can hear Tony jogging, talking as he goes “Who are these guys? Clint; so you know; they’re everywhere. If you can; wait for my signal. Get yourself in position I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’m swapping to your comms line now. The jets already left, Pepper is on board, and a med team. They’ll be there in just under 6 hours. We will have to get her out and get to the airport. Let’s try and get her on coms.. If she’s conscious…” he leaves that thought hanging.

“Anyway. I’m now on comms, I’ll catch you soon bird boy. Hang tight.” He hangs up the phone, and stuffs it in his back pocket. Clint’s taken the opportunity to check out and head for the ally; looking to steal a car whilst Tony’s been talking.

Tony’s right, it’s going to take him an hour to get there, even at this time. He’s thankful for the cover of darkness; the black fiat is ugly but does the job. It’s an old enough model that he can jimmy the lock and hot wire the steering. He sets the coordinates on his phone and leaves.

By the time he gets there he checks in with Tony, who reports he’s 45 minutes out. Enough time for a full scout. He tries Natasha again, tapping his com-link. It’s toast. Unless.. He connects it to his phone and runs diagnostics. He’s not as technical as Tony but he has a few tricks. When he reconnects he hears the tail end of his name.

Had she been calling it the whole time, or was that just freakishly good timing? Tony hears it too.

“Tash?!” He tries. He can hear her breath hitching. Fuck. She’s not ok. “We’re coming for you.”

Tony’s more practical and Clint’s never been more thankful for him. He’s an ass but a helpful ass, “tell us what you can?”.

Clint wants to infiltrate now. He’s desperate; Natasha describes that she can’t see anything. Not helpful. And that she can’t move. Worrying. There’s nothing after that. Tony lets her know that they’ve tracked her earpiece. She’s silent after that. No one really has anything to say except the obvious. They’re coming.

Clint heads to the back of warehouse.

Tony is now 20 minutes out.

And then it starts.

Natasha is screaming.

It’s excruciating.

Tony’s yelling at him to wait, but he can’t. He heads in. This place is a maze. Navigating the stairs, he hears Tony arrive. The explosion that sounds and rocks the building. He should have waited but he can still hear Natasha screaming and it’s ringing in his ears.

All of sudden she stops, and so does his heart. Moving faster he gets to the lower levels. Shooting two thugs in the face he starts checking rooms.

Tony is creating a hell of a diversion, drawing fire. Clint let’s him know that he hasn’t found her yet. The firefight outside continues.

The last room he checks is dark, and he heads inside. There’s something inside, he clears the doorway and finds her strapped to a table, his heart breaks in two- there’s straps around her feet, torso and arms; as he gets closer he sees the one around around her neck. Fuck.

The minefield of this trauma is just starting. He can see the rise and fall of her chest and at least she’s alive to see the c-ptsd.

Trying to rouse her he calls her name, he unstraps her ankles, and wrists; moving to her torso she starts bucking against the restraint. He tries to reassure her whilst undoing the strap; wounds that were oozing now have a streaky stream of blood. The wound on her stomach is hideous and her wrists and ankles have broken skin all around them and that’s just what he can see. He can feel her body tremors which he knows from experience only comes from electric shock. He finishes with her torso and moves to her neck. In hindsight, he should have started there, her body curls up in a fetal position - sounds of distress that aren’t words and not crying come hard and fast. Clint squats next to her face, brushing her hair back, his hand coming away with blood. He’s working as fast as he can with the strap around her neck, blood making it both slippery and sticky, fingers working the clasp.

It takes a lot for Natasha to scream, this he knows. He wonders how many were working on her to get her this distressed, this quickly. He tells her that it’s over, it’s done and they’re dead (he hopes they are), he picks her up and advises her they’re leaving.

Clint pulls a blanket from his pack and wraps her in it. He places a gun in her hands. At the most it makes her feel safe, at worse she shoots something or someone. He just wants her to be safe with him. She was supposed to be safe with him.

Clint just talks, tells her everything that’s happened since they split up. Clint tells her everything and nothing hoping it’s enough to keep her semi-lucid and awake.

Tony updates him that he’s leaving to meet the quinjet that’s made double time across the sea. He bundles her in the tiny fiat and heads for the airport. Clint tries to keep her awake, failing miserably; Natasha is moaning in pain and there’s nothing he can do at this point. He worries about concussion and trauma, but it can hold. He wants to get out of here.

.

Arriving at the airport, he sees Tony and Pepper and the quinjet waiting. Bundling Natasha into his arms, he tries to rouse her. He greets the couple, both taking one look at Natasha and hurrying into the jet. It’s when they’re sitting and he’s strapped himself in with assistance from Tony; arguing about whether Natasha should be in a hospital or at the very least needs medical interventions that Clint feels Natasha rouse. He feels her burying her head into his neck, straining for breath. Cracked ribs maybe? Tony notices, of course he does, her breathing is audible; Tony tries to make his case again and he feels Natasha trembling when medical is mentioned. Clint feels her pain. He brushes her hair away from her ear, wanting to be clear.

“Natasha. We can sedate you and fix you up if you want?”

He feels the shake of her head and he drops it immediately. It’s a long ride back to New York.

—-

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think!


End file.
